


All I Want For Christmas

by SpunSugar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Brief Alcohol Mention, Christmas, Engagement Anniversary, Family, Fluffy, Holidays, Homesick, Long-Distance, M/M, Mild Angst, Multi, Separation, Travel, Vicmas, Victor's Birthday, cursed birthday, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpunSugar/pseuds/SpunSugar
Summary: Victor experiences a cursed birthday where everything goes wrong. Thousands of miles away, Yuuri tries to make it better.





	All I Want For Christmas

“But Yuuri…”

“Victor, you promised. You shouldn’t let Yakov down. Again,” Yuuri pointed out, gently but firmly. He was hovering over Victor’s shoulder while his fiancé was sprawled dramatically across their couch, frowning at his smart phone while the notification bell sounded a thousand times. “You’d better answer him soon, or he’ll think you’re avoiding him.”

Victor groaned. He pressed the green “call” icon as if he expected the screen to bite his finger.

“Go ahead,” he greeted in Russian.

“You’re really trying my patience, Vit’ka,” Yakov grumbled on the other end, but the diminutive softened the sound of his irritation.

 Yuuri leaned in closer, straining his ears to follow along with their conversation, ignoring Victor swatting him away distractedly as he stood and paced the apartment.

“I just want to confirm that you’re finally going to make good on your offer this year.”

Yakov always spoke in a way that sounded so formal, Yuuri mused.

Victor sighed.

“It seems I have no choice.” He shot Yuuri a wry smile. “You know I’m happy to do it, it’s just the timing-”

“I know, I know,” Yakov’s gruff voice soothed. “But it will mean so much, your sacrifice. This is the only time of year it will be possible without leaving any of the children out. I wouldn’t ask it, otherwise.”

Victor was rubbing the spot on his forehead just between his eyebrows.

“Alright, what are the details?”

He’d owed Yakov a favor for several seasons, now. (Well, that was being generous- he probably owed more than one favor, if anyone was keeping count.) And he wasn’t so much of a selfish monster that he wanted to think about disappointing a bunch of children for Christmas... He just didn’t understand how Yuuri could be so unbothered by the idea. Victor was going to be flying to Europe, alone, during one of the busiest times of the year, the day after their anniversary, the week before his birthday… It was going to be the first year the two of them would really have the time to relax and focus on one another’s company without the pressure and chaos of competition looming over their heads, and now Yakov was spoiling it.

“You’ll be back in time for Christmas,” Yuuri murmured into Victor’s shoulder warmly, linking their hands together. “And then we’ll celebrate.”

 

But the sinking feeling in the bottom of Victor’s stomach had persisted as Yuuri had showered him with kisses in the doorway on the morning of his trip, almost causing them both to topple over Victor’s suitcase.

“I wish I could go with you…” Yuuri kept glancing over Victor’s arm at the clock, but he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“You still could,” Victor tried, locking his arms around Yuuri’s hips.

“Yuri still needs my help with his step sequence. I’d rather not risk angering him this time of year…”

It was a good reason; Yurio would probably follow them all the way to Spain just to chew them out. He’d done it before, in Hasetsu, after all.

“Besides,” Yuuri added, “One of us should be here when Otabek arrives.”

Victor let out a huff of air through his nose in response, tightening his grip around Yuuri, who snorted out a laugh.

“You’re like a kid sometimes yourself, you know.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Victor pressed closer, wishing he could feel Yuuri’s heartbeat through the layers of his coat.

“Yuuri…”

“I’ll miss you,” Yuuri said, voice soft and fragile. “Come home safe.”

 

The sinking feeling was still there, sitting heavy, while Victor boarded his plane amongst a pushy horde of travelers, spilling shitty airport coffee down the front of his cashmere scarf.

It was there while he stared out the window into the pitch black, watching the lights of Pulkovo airport and the golden grid of the frozen city shrinking smaller and smaller until they were out of sight and there was only a hazy, purple-grey sky to look at as the sun rose below a thick sheet of clouds.

The sinking feeling followed Victor all the way to Barcelona, to his hotel room- which he barely had time to set foot in before heading out again- to the ice rink where he was meant to meet with one of Yakov’s childhood friends.

“Victor Nikiforov, the legend himself!!”

A vigorous handshake from a pair of age-roughed hands shook Victor out of his melancholic reverie.

“Thank you so much for doing this. You really can’t know how much this means-”

Ah, that was right. He was here to teach a class.

Yakov had volunteered him for a few days of free lessons for a non-profit figure skating organization that created opportunities for children from low-income families to participate in the expensive sport.

Victor put on a bright smile and launched into pleasant introductions as he was ushered towards the ice by an old man half his height. He was here for a reason. It would be pointless if he didn’t put all of his energy into it now.

He could already hear the excited chatter of the children echoing off of the high ceilings as he approached. Doing his best to shake off the lingering funk, Victor skated out to meet them.

 

“Good morning _, lyubimyj_ ,” Yuuri mumbled into the phone several days later, barely coherent. From the sound of it, he was still in bed, buried face-first in the pillows.

Victor could hear Makkachin sniffling around excitedly in the background. He wished he was there to kiss Yuuri’s sleep-bleary face. Yuuri was always so cute and scattered in the mornings.

“Good morning, love.”

Yuuri scrambled around for his eyeglasses on the bedside table, suppressing a yawn.

“How did your final day of teaching go? They’ve really been keeping you busy over there, famous Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri laughed drowsily. “I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I tried to stay up-”

“It’s alright,” Victor smiled, but his heart clenched a little as he glanced over at the muted television casting a blue light around the dim hotel room. The curtains had been pushed aside but the sky outside was overcast, and the morning sun couldn’t seem to penetrate. “Everything went fine. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, I have some bad news.”

Yuuri sat upright in their bed.

“What-”

“I’ve just been following the weather,” Victor explained, “And it looks like I might not be able to make it back today.” Silence on the line. “I’ve called the airport to confirm, and as of now, all of the inbound flights to St. Petersburg have been cancelled.”

Yuuri groaned loudly, face-planting back into the pillows, ignoring Makkachin pawing at his back in concern.

Victor took some small comfort in Yuuri’s response.

“I’ve packed everything up, in case something changes, but at this rate…”

“I want to see you,” Yuuri whined hopelessly.

 _‘You’re the one who pressured me to leave,’_ Victor considered responding, but he wasn’t in a teasing mood. He just wanted to be home again.

On the TV, images of St. Petersburg drenched in icy rain flickered in front of his eyes. He reached for the remote, shutting it off, and the room went dark again.

“I guess it can’t be helped…” The vibrations of Yuuri’s voice were in his ear as Victor closed his eyes. “Agh-” Sharp, incessant barking disrupted whatever momentary calm Victor had been seeking. “Victor, I’m sorry- I’m going to take Makkachin out. Can I call you back after?”

“Aren’t you taking the punk out for breakfast today?” Victor asked.

“…Ah, that’s right,” Yuuri remembered. He’d offered to treat Yuri and Otabek to a meal. Yurio normally might’ve been glad to avoid the embarrassment of public family-time, especially with his friend visiting, but if it involved free food, he wasn’t likely to let it go. Then again, none of them had planned on going out in a winter storm... “I’d better talk to him. What are you going to do?” Yuuri asked Victor.

“I’ll find some way to pass the time,” Victor reassured him, trying to sound optimistic.

Yuuri was unconvinced.

“I’m sure I’ll have time to talk later. I’ll call you, alright?”

“Mm,” Victor hummed. “Later, then.”

 

The storm in St. Petersburg showed no signs of letting up.

Victor spent the morning lounging in his hotel room, picking half-heartedly at room-service ordered crepes. The time change hadn’t been drastic enough to cause jet-lag, but he still felt as if part of him had been dragging behind for the past few days. It was almost nice to do nothing and allow himself to catch up. Almost.

After a few hours, the room began to feel too big and too empty. Victor stood up abruptly, kicking his slippers off with too much force.

He wasn’t this pitiful. He was in Barcelona- a beautiful, lively city full of so many precious memories. He wasn’t going to spend the entire day in bed, waiting for a flight.

Slipping on his shoes and running some mousse through his hair, Victor emerged somewhat presentable and made his way down the hall to the elevator.

Yes, he was self-sufficient. This was going to be just like a personal vacation. Something he hadn’t experienced in… Victor tapped a finger on his lips, squinting thoughtfully as he waited for the elevator to arrive. God. Well, the amount of time that had passed didn’t matter so much. He still had a youthful spirit, and he was going to enjoy the day in spite of himself.

The doors opened, revealing a small crowd of people already crammed inside. Victor excused himself as he pushed his way in, soon finding himself forced to the back of the lift. The floor-to-ceiling glass panels facing the exterior of the building offered an incredible view of the skyline from the 25th floor. Victor put his hand on the glass to catch himself as someone shoved into him from behind, and he felt his stomach lurch instinctively as the elevator dropped towards the ground. Maybe he would have found the sensation exciting if he hadn’t just eaten. Or maybe he _was_ just getting old…

He found himself reminiscing fondly on his stay with Yuuri, in the nights leading up to the Grand Prix Final several years past. In that same elevator, he had pressed Yuuri up against the wall of glass on the slow ride up to their shared room. Yuuri had blushed at the slightest of touches, then, but his hands had reached out shyly to explore Victor’s body, the ring on his finger fueling his confidence.

Victor was caught off-guard when the elevator reached the lobby and the crowd spilled out, dragging him with it, like the tide. He collected himself and followed the other guests out the main doors and onto the street, pulling the neck of his sweater up a little higher as he was struck by a cool breeze. He could just see a glimpse of the sea glittering faintly between the buildings up ahead.

Cutting through the vacant plaza across from the hotel, Victor headed the opposite direction of the last-minute holiday shoppers, instead following the invigorating smell of salt water, listening for the sound of gulls, until he reached the walkway that ran along the waterfront. It was cold and windy near the water, and the beach below was nearly deserted, but Victor felt better already, just standing there.

He followed the walkway for a while, gliding his hand along the railing, lost in thought, until he felt his stomach growl insistently. He checked the time on his phone.

1:00 pm… He should be able to find someplace to order a decent lunch at this hour…

Victor worried his lower lip between his teeth. Yuuri still hadn’t called.

He would have been at home, right now, if his flight hadn’t been cancelled…

No, no, no. Victor tried again to brush off the intrusive gloom. He could handle a single day by himself, regardless of the time of year.

…But maybe he would call the airport one more time, after getting something to eat.

 

Over 24 hours later, Victor was still stuck in Barcelona.

The storm in St. Petersburg had worsened, and Yuuri and the boys had been snowed-in at the apartment all day long.

It was Christmas Eve, and much of the city had been shut down for the sake of familial celebrations, so Victor had spent the majority of the day back in his hotel room, feeling like an animal in a cage, and making an admirable dent in the complimentary mini-bar.

He was reliving birthdays of decades past, something he’d hoped never to experience again. It was as if his fears had manifested just to play a cruel joke on him. And worst of all was the ache of knowing that he _could_ be with Yuuri right now. Now he had someone to miss.

Victor dragged the bedsheets over his head, debating going to sleep, even though it was still early in the night.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Victor poked his head out under from the sheets warily.

Someone knocked again.

“Just a moment,” he called, stumbling to untangle himself and making sure his robe was at least covering the lower half of his body before opening the door.

A member of the hotel staff was standing outside, holding a bouquet of lilies and pink roses and sprays of small flowers Victor didn’t know the names of, the circumference of which was completely obscuring the staff member’s face from view.

Victor blinked as the flowers were pushed into his fumbling hands.

“These were delivered for you, _Señor_. Happy Birthday!”

“T-Thank you,” Victor returned the staff member’s smile, hoping the fragrance of the bouquet was enough to obscure the alcohol fumes on his breath as he searched for a tip to give them and retreated back inside his room. He plopped down onto the bed, staring at the bouquet cradled in his hands.

Like magic, his phone began ringing and buzzing on the nightstand. He picked it up, somewhat dazed.

“Oh good, you’re there.” It was Yuuri.

“How… did you manage this? Everything is closed here,” Victor blurted before Yuuri could say anything else.

Yuuri’s laugh on the other end was musical.

“Not everything. So you got your present, then? I’m so relieved. I was getting anxious waiting.”

“Yuuri,” Victor started, but he couldn’t think of what to say. His head was clouded with liquor and emotion.

“I hope it cheers you up a little. I can’t stand the thought of you moping around in your room alone.”

Victor didn’t reply.

“So, I was right,” Yuuri sighed, but then he laughed again, softly. “Do you feel like going out for a bit? There’s a part two to your surprise, if you’re up to it.”

Victor did not feel up to it, but he wanted to know what else Yuuri had planned.

“I just want to hear your voice some more.” Victor set the flowers delicately on the bed, brushing his fingers over the petals.

“Then stay on the phone with me,” Yuuri’s voice was so gentle. Victor’s chest hurt… “Let’s go for a walk together, Victor. Get your coat.”

 

“Can you see it now?” Victor asked, peeking at his phone as he climbed out of the taxi cab. A little red dot was blinking on a map on the screen. He shivered and stuffed his free hand deeper into his pocket, wishing he hadn’t had so much to drink now that he was standing outside again.

“Yes!” Yuuri responded with excitement, “I can see you. Perfect. Okay, just go right and keep walking until I tell you to turn.”

“Where are you taking me?” Victor asked, but he obeyed without hesitation.

“It’s a surprise,” Yuuri reminded him.

Something about this street was familiar…

Victor was tired from the long cab ride, but he had been content to rest his head against the back of the seat and listen to Yuuri recount the events of the day, which had consisted mainly of Yurio having terrible ideas, Otabek supporting them unconditionally, and Yuuri having to keep them both out of trouble.

 _‘I’m almost glad they had to stay inside today,’_ Yuuri had told him. _‘But they did manage to set off the smoke detector, twice-’_

Victor followed Yuuri’s directions until he found himself standing outside of a café with a façade of black panels and potted plants lining either side of the door. A string of lightbulbs draped overhead cast a whimsical shadow on the awning over the entrance.

“Ah!” Victor’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“You remember?” Yuuri prodded shyly, his face flushing even though Victor couldn’t see him.

“Of course,” Victor replied. A warm feeling spread through his chest. For a moment, he forgot that Yuuri wasn’t actually beside him, but thousands of miles away.

This was the café where they’d spent hours tucked in the corner talking about their future together, planning Yuuri’s move to St. Petersburg…

The smell of pastries wafted towards him as the door was opened, bells ringing. Victor stepped inside, melting into the warmth and the dull murmur of voices.

“Our table,” he smiled upon finding it available, and slid into the seat.

Christmas decorations made of felt and strands of glitter dangled from every wall. Something about the atmosphere made Victor feel less lonely.

“What are you going to order?” Yuuri asked cheerfully. “And no more alcohol,” he added in a stern tone. In the last twenty minutes he’d managed to deduce that Victor wasn’t entirely sober.

They spent an hour chatting while Victor ate, and slowly Victor felt the sinking feeling inside himself evaporate, at last. It was like they were on a date. Before long, he was laughing along with Yuuri- and then covering his mouth to avoid disturbing the families seated nearby.

“Ah- someone wants to talk to you,” Yuuri said, suddenly. “Hold on.”

Victor’s eyebrow quirked at the sounds of bickering in the background until finally he heard a familiar growl of a voice pick up the phone.

“Hmph. Shouldn’t you be asleep, old man?” Yurio barked into his ear.

“It’s only 8pm here,” Victor retorted, then silently chided himself for taking the bait. “Can I help you, Yuri?” he tried again.

“Whatever. I just wanted to know if you’ve seen my headphones anywhere lately. I can’t find them.”

Victor sighed. If that boy would just keep his mess contained to his bedroom…

“I believe I saw them dangling out of one of your sweatshirt pockets, last I remember. On the floor next to the washing machine, with the rest of your laundry.”

“ _Oh_ , right! …Thanks.”

Silence.

Victor cleared his throat.

“Was there anything e-”

“Just hurry up and come home, already. Alright? Yuuri won’t stop bothering me without you here and he won’t shut up about tomorrow not being the same.”

“H-”

“He’s just a sad sack and it’s really fucking depressing. He planned a whole surprise party for you and you’re not even gonna be here, so that’s ruined.”

“He did?”

Yurio let out an exaggerated noise of exasperation.

“Just stop being gross over the phone and get on a plane.”

“I-”

“Okay I gotta go. Bye.”

“Wait-! Hello?” Victor pulled the phone away from his ear to check, but the call hadn’t been ended yet. “Hello?”

“I’m back,” Yuuri greeted. “What did he say to you?” he chuckled. “He looked embarrassed.”

“Yuuri… did you plan a party?”

“Oh.”

“Yuuri…!” Victor exclaimed in despair.

“Well… before the weather changed so unexpectedly, I thought this was going be the perfect opportunity to finally do something really special for your birthday, without you catching on. It’s… been a bit of a disaster.” Yuuri couldn’t help tearing up on the other end, but he tried to keep his voice steady so Victor wouldn’t notice. “I had invited everyone... Really, everyone- even JJ- but they’ve all had to cancel their flights. Almost no one was going to be able to get the dates pushed back, and we didn’t even know when you were going to make it home, so we…” He trailed off. “I didn’t want to mention it, since it’s not happening.” He gave a tense sigh. “I’m sorry, Victor. It’s my fault that you’re not here right now, that you’re going to miss spending your birthday at home-”

“Yuuri, sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you,” Victor cut him off before Yuuri could start to spiral.

“W-why-?” Yuuri sniffled in confusion.

“You were right, about keeping my promise to Yakov. This was something I had to do. I just wish I was there with you now… But it’s not your fault things worked out this way.” Victor ran his fingertips over the smooth gold surface of his engagement ring, turning it over on his finger with a tender smile. “You managed to make this trip into a pleasant memory. This entire city is full of memories of you, so I haven’t been alone.”

Yuuri had gone so quiet, Victor was sure he was trying not to cry.

“I think it’s time for me to head back to my room. Will you go with me?” Victor asked.

 

They talked the whole way back to the hotel, Victor telling Yuuri about the kids from the skating club, including one feisty youngster who hadn’t stopped challenging him the duration of the week, and who reminded them both of Yuri Plisetsky, which made Yuuri laugh.

Back in the room, Victor propped the bouquet of flowers up against the wall, in a coffee mug full of water, and climbed into bed, still pressing the phone close to his face.

“It’s late there,” he mumbled, eyes drifting closed. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Yes, I’m here with Makkachin.” Yuuri ran his fingers through the dog’s curly fur, eliciting a loud snore.

Victor smiled at the sound, unwilling to open his eyes again.

“I love you, Yuuri.”

“I love you, too,” Yuuri replied, heart full. He was still getting used to saying it out loud. Foreigners really were bold with expressing their affection. But he did… he loved Victor so much. So much, it sometimes hurt. But it was a good pain.

“Good night…” Victor was asleep before either of them could hang up.

 

The next day, a miracle happened: the storm had dispersed, and Victor was on a plane to St. Petersburg by early afternoon. His hands kept unconsciously twitching towards his phone, even while they were in the air. He had gotten so used to Yuuri’s presence. Victor leaned back in his seat and tried to be patient during the flight. It was probably good for him, to have spent some time apart for a week, but now all he wanted was his fiancé in his arms again.

It was his birthday, after all.

He could feel his excitement building with each passing hour, until the plane finally landed. He realized he was humming to himself as he gathered up his luggage, gazing out onto the tarmac with a perhaps undeserved fondness. Finally- _finally,_ he was out of limbo. Victor followed the queue of passengers down the narrow ramp to the airport, digging around in his coat pocket for his phone again. It wouldn’t hurt to call and let Yuuri know that he’d arrived-

“Victor!!”

Victor paused mid-rummage and looked up to find Yuuri, Yurio, and Otabek (who gave a stoic wave) standing in a huddle amidst the clamor of the boarding zone, just beyond the maze of stanchions. He almost forgot his suitcase and bags completely as Yuuri rushed to greet him, wrapping him in a tight hug without thinking or caring about the stares of any passerby. It was Christmas, anyways.

“Ugh,” Yurio remarked, but he lifted Victor’s carry-on bag over his shoulder when he thought the couple wasn’t looking.

Victor squeezed Yuuri close to his chest, reveling in the feel of his small shoulders, the smell of his shampoo, the scratchiness of his ugly holiday sweater. This was everything he had hoped for on his birthday, and more.

“Let’s go home,” Yuuri said, pulling himself away after what seemed like eternity, but was still too brief. He took Victor’s hand.

Victor didn’t say it, but in his mind, he was already there.


End file.
